What’s the Point of a Bucket List When You’re Sick Every Day?

“If you only had a year to live, what would you do?”

It’s the kind of question that’s meant to inspire people. Push them to chase dreams, take risks, or appreciate life more deeply. But when you actually do have limited time left, and you’re sick every day, the question hits differently. Sometimes it just feels… insulting.

Because here’s the honest truth:

What you’d do if you were dying and what you’re able to do when you’re actually dying are often two very different things.

Bucket lists come with pressure, and cancer already comes with enough

There’s a strange expectation that people with cancer should suddenly become adventure-hungry adrenaline junkies. As if we’re supposed to start skydiving, writing novels, or ticking off every last continent like we’re in some inspirational movie montage.

But a lot of us, myself included, really dislike being asked about our bucket list. Not because we don’t have dreams or goals. But because it feels like we’re being handed a checklist of things we now must do before we die. Like life has suddenly turned into a countdown, and we’re meant to spend every moment proving that we lived it well enough.

And honestly? Life isn’t a checklist. It never was. And I don’t think it should be, even at the end.

“Why don’t you just travel the world?”

If you ask a healthy person what they’d do with 12 months to live, you’ll usually hear something like:

• “I’d sell everything and travel the world.”
• “I’d quit my job and go live on a beach.”
• “I’d pack a caravan and explore Australia.”

Sounds amazing in theory. But in reality, cancer treatment makes it near impossible to do any of that. Most of us are juggling chemo cycles, scan dates, surgery recoveries, or side effects that make even a short walk exhausting, let alone a trip to Europe or a remote camp site.

Even if you do get a break long enough to take a holiday, it’s not going to be a month-long global adventure. It might be a few quiet days down south. A weekend in a hotel where you don’t have to clean or cook. And even then, you’re still managing fatigue, digestive chaos, or the anxiety of being too far from a hospital if something goes wrong.

So when people ask why we’re not out “living it up” or chasing our dreams, it shows they don’t really get it. This isn’t a reality show where we’re off ticking boxes. This is our real, messy, medicalised, often reclined-in-bed life.

I’m not chasing moments. I’m open to them

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I’m content with the life I’ve led. I’ve travelled. I’ve worked. I’ve loved. I’ve made incredible memories. I don’t need to prove anything by creating a list of deathbed goals. That’s just not how I see life, or death, for that matter.

Instead of having a “to-do before I die” list, I prefer to stay open to what life offers. If something meaningful comes along, I’ll take it. But I’m not out there trying to squeeze in every last experience just so I can say I’ve lived well. Because to me, living well has always been more about how you live, not how much you manage to do.

Some of my most meaningful recent moments haven’t been big-ticket items. They’ve been:

• Spending a slow morning with my wife, drinking coffee and watching the world wake up
• Having a deep chat with a mate and reminiscing about life
• Eating a full meal without nausea and realising how good food can actually taste again
• Helping someone feel less alone by sharing my story online

None of that would look very impressive on a bucket list. But for me, those are the moments that matter.

Not everyone gets to dream big

It’s also worth saying, the whole bucket list thing assumes a certain amount of privilege. Time. Energy. Money. Support. Stability.

If you’re doing chemo every two or three weeks, your life is already broken into blocks. You’re planning around side effects, scan results, hospital visits. You can’t just fly to the Maldives or road trip for weeks on end, especially if you’re too sick to drive or your white blood cell count’s too low to be around strangers.

So when people ask about bucket lists, it’s not just tone-deaf. It’s unrealistic. It erases the real limitations people face. And it puts pressure on people who are already stretched thin just trying to stay alive.

If you do want a bucket list, that’s valid too

To be clear: I’m not saying nobody should have a bucket list. For some people, it’s empowering. It gives them purpose. Motivation. A reason to keep going. And if that works for you, hell yes, go for it.

But it has to come from you, not other people projecting their ideas of how you should live or die.

Your life doesn’t need to be cinematic. It doesn’t need to be inspirational. It just needs to be yours.

Final thought

If this really is my last year, I want to spend it doing what I can, when I can, with the people I love. That might not look impressive on paper. It might not make anyone’s bucket list. But it’s enough for me.

So next time you feel the urge to ask a cancer patient what’s on their bucket list, maybe ask them what matters to them instead. You might be surprised by the answer.